


The Fragile Diamond

by chemicalwave



Category: The Walking Dead, Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Apocalypse, Bad Parenting, Blood, I promise, Introspection, M/M, Trust Issues, Walkers, Zombies, but nobody knows that, daryl is actually a golden retriever puppy, sometimes, there will be smut, u know - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalwave/pseuds/chemicalwave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one was ready for an apocalypse. Mothers lost their children, children lost their brothers and sisters. There was no man or woman on earth who hadn’t lost someone they cared for… except for who didn’t have anyone from the beginning. Daryl Dixon, being the rational man he was, acted without losing the control of the situation. He had a plan and he knew how to take care of himself, he knew how to survive on his own because that was what he did for his entire life: survive, not live. Daryl was a fighter and he didn't allow anyone to get under his skin. His face was illegible, his eyes had seen things but his mouth was shut sewn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And I'll live so you can call this sort of life a hopeless endeavour.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey reader, here! This is my first “Walking Dead” story so be nice to me and just know that I’m Italian and that I might have made some mistakes. Also, as an Italian, I have no clue about how people from Georgia would talk so yeah, you’ll have to bear with me not knowing slang and such. I’ll try though… by the way if you happen to find some mistakes please report them so I can fix them. Enjoy and let me know what you think. ;)

-AND I'LL LIVE SO YOU CAN CALL THIS SORT OF LIFE A HOPELESS ENDEAVOR-  


Few people knew what to do when everything happened; they were too shocked and they panicked. Some of them ran out of their houses and got shot, bit, ran over. Others simply stayed hidden under their bed and survived longer than the ones who decided to fight. Some people, instead, just stopped living and waited for something to take them because they had nothing to live for, everything they were or had, was gone. There were no rich or poor, no famous or unknown, no women or men; there were survivors and walkers.

No one was ready for an apocalypse. Mothers lost their children, children lost their brothers and sisters. There was no man or woman on earth who hadn’t lost someone they cared for… Except for who didn’t have anyone from the beginning.  
Daryl Dixon, being the rational man he was, acted without losing the control of the situation. He had a plan and he knew how to take care of himself, he knew how to survive on his own because that was what he did for his entire life: survive, not live.

It was night and the neighborhood was silent. Daryl gathered the last things he was able to grab around the house without his father realizing it and shoved them in his damaged backpack. The old man didn’t want to leave the house, fear had melted his brain and Daryl wasn’t going to hold his hand during his new insanity. The young man was sick of being told what to do and was sick of his drunk and idiot father. They survived that long just because Daryl had been going on supply runs every two days and because they had been alone. He heard about some large groups that ended up killing each other for food and ammo. Daryl didn’t trust anyone before, let alone now that everyone went mad. 

Someone at the radio said that Atlanta was safe, that there were shelter and food. He believed it because he had no reasons not to and he decided to head there in hopes of finding a better future, if there ever was one.  
He quickly took stock of the supplies he had and became conscious that they would be enough just for three weeks or so but it didn’t matter; the world was going to shit and that house was going to be the death of him. The Dixon family was better off without him, the world was better off without him; that was what every person in is life led him to believe. 

For a moment he thought about his mother, and tried to ignore the usual pain that formed in his chest every time he did that. The young man kept packing his equipment. Her death wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. He couldn’t blame himself for that, even if his father told him the opposite. Daryl remembered how miserable he felt when he saw his house burn, when he saw the fire coming out of his mother’s room’s window, when he felt the neighbors’ eyes on him. Nobody did anything to help, nobody hugged him or covered his eyes and took him somewhere safe; he stood alone watching his life disappearing, ate by the flames and so did the other people. And it was fine for him, he didn’t need their pity. That day, he learned that emotions were for the weak and that lacking them was the only thing that would have kept him strong. He succeeded in pushing everyone away from him; he was better on his own. He had been alone since the day of his birth and he knew it would be the same till his death. At least he knew how to behave.

Merle was the only person Daryl didn’t want to leave behind but he couldn’t put his finger on the exact reason. He left the house before that disaster happened, he left his little brother deal on his own with a violent man: he left Daryl with no defense, no help. His brother had never been there for him and he wasn’t there as well now. Some things never change. In fact, Daryl stayed the same scarred boy emotionally attached to his brother no matter what, in fact Daryl left the house with his crossbow and backpack to go looking for his older brother. He had always been the sweet one after all, as Merle used to say.  
Before closing the main door behind him, he gave his drunk and asleep father a last look. He silently hoped that one of those things would have tore his flesh off and eaten his organs voraciously while the coward screamed for help, aware that nothing could have saved him, because that was how Daryl felt all those years of abuse. He sarcastically saluted his father with his right hand and then flipped him off and left the house. 

His backpack was extremely heavy and the pain in his right shoulder, due to a violent but short fight with other survivors in a local market, wasn’t getting any better since. He looked around him and started to walk when he felt certain that the street was clear. He was ready to fight if there was the need to and ready to avoid it if possible. He wanted to look for Merle, it didn’t matter how long it would have taken. He was a Dixon after all and they were known for being pretty stubborn. They were also known for being selfish but Daryl wasn’t like that…not completely at least.

The hunter spent one week wandering around his hometown without finding any trace of his brother and even worse, supplies were running out, just like his arrows. It was a thing Daryl wasn’t concerned about at first, but when the last drop of water slid down his throat, he decided that it was time to loot some houses or shops. It wasn’t a hard task for him since he did that even before the world went down. He would occasionally steal food or cigarettes but never alcohol like his brother did. He knew that it was what ruined his family, what made his father go crazy and beat him at night. He was sure about few things in his life and one of those was that he didn’t want to become like them and accordingly that he would have never touch any bottle of alcohol.

His legs were growing tired and his shoulders couldn’t afford carrying more weight. “I can do this.” Daryl thought as he pushed his body against the shop’s walls and tried to open the door. There were no lights inside and he thanked himself for bringing a flashlight. The shelves were dusty and empty. He let his backpack slid down his arm and left it on the dirty floor. The flashlight provided little light but it was enough for him to see where he was going and if there were any supplies left. He held it with his mouth because his hands were carrying the heavy crossbow. Sweat was all over his face and his clothes were clinging to his wet and weak body. After finding some food and water what he needed to look for were better clothes, especially a new t-shirt since the one on his torso was worn out and muddy.  
Something moved at his right and Daryl turned instantly to see a man lying near a shelf full of bottles. He pointed the flashlight at his face to see if it was one of those damn zombies or whatever people called them, but the man grunted and covered his face.

“What the fuck you want?!” The man grumbled out, clearly drunk. Amazing, the dead were walking on earth and people still thought about getting drunk? Maybe he could have killed him and steal whatever he had, it wasn’t like that guy was willing to survive, while Daryl was, he had to, for Merle. However, he did nothing but sigh and turn around in order to leave. That man deserved to be left alone to die. His feet stopped when the sitting man spoke again.

“s your ugly ass what I’m lookin’ at, Darlena?” The man said, his voice hoarse. 

Daryl breath stopped for a second. Just one person had the balls to call him like that. He quickly turned around to face his brother laughing and mumbling nonsense about Daryl gaining weight. He lowered his crossbow and tried to dismiss all the fatigue in his voice. He had found his brother, finally. It had been more than one year since the last time he had seen his face. A big scar ran through the older brother’s cheek and he would have had a black eye later that day. The scar was old but the bruise wasn’t. 

“What the fuck you doin’ here Merle?”  
“Ah I knew ya would have looked for ol’ Merle. You wouldn’t last a day without me, huh, baby brother?” Daryl rolled his eyes and helped Merle stand up. He figured his brother wasn’t going to be able to walk for so long without falling and be and easy walker bait. He had to think about something quickly, before night would have fallen on them. 

“I lasted two years without you.” The younger man said sadly looking at what was left of his brother. “C’mon, let’s get the fuck outta here” He said grabbing Merle’s arm and pulling him towards the exit. 

“I ain’t leavin’ this place, this‘s fucking gold.” Merle said while setting himself free from Daryl’s grip and going back towards the shelf.

“Are you outta of your goddamn mind? Whatcha you wanna do, huh? Die in here while drinkin’ some cheap bottles of that shit?” Daryl couldn’t believe he lost one week and a lot of supplies to rescue his dumb brother who did nothing but go around looking for some booze. He hadn’t even thought about finding shelter, he just walked through the whole state to find someone who didn’t want to be found. 

“Nah I’m gonna drink ‘em and then I’m gonna go back to those fuckers.” Said Merle sardonically with his drunken voice and Daryl understood that he hadn’t been lost and alone the whole time. He just found someone who would have covered his ass and forgot about his brother. Good to know that. He was just wasting his time but again he couldn’t leave his brother, because it would have meant that he admitted to be like him.

“You stayin’ with someone?” Daryl whispered touching his nose and shifting his weight. 

“Yeah. How ‘boutcha baby brother?” Merle asked. He was looking at the bottles’ labels, trying to find one that was worth a shot. Daryl said nothing and kept looking at his brother walking around the shop like a soul in hell: lost. He didn’t believe in Hell and God and all that kind of things, he didn’t need to believe in some savior because he was his own rescuer. God wasn’t there when his father beat the shit out of him, when his mother died, when Merle went to prison and left his little brother alone. 

“I left the old man to track your ass down. It’s only me.” Daryl kept whispering and narrowed his eyes.

“Why, d’ya think I can’t handle this shit myself?” Merle’s voice was higher because of the amount of alcohol he had ingested and he started to stagger. Daryl knew where this was going. 

“Whatever man. How ‘bout you take me to your group?” Daryl tried to keep his voice calm and steady and not to anger the not very stable man in front of him.

“I’m gonna tell you a thing-” Merle leaned forward to grab his brother but ended up falling on his face, dragging the shelves down with him. The bottles crushed on the ground and the liquids inside spilled everywhere. The noise broke the safe silence and echoed around. Daryl tightened his jaw and hoped walkers weren’t around, then grabbed the shelf and lifted it. Merle denied his help and got back on his feet. 

When Daryl heard something, he hoped it was just the wind, but he knew it was not. He looked at the door and saw it moving, pushed by those undead people. He remembered about his backpack and ran towards it as fast as he could; losing what was inside was a loss Daryl could afford. He was about to grab it but the door gave away and collapsed on the floor, revealing a bunch of walkers and their lifeless eyes. One of them had an arm missing and half of his face was skinless. Daryl took a step back and drew out the hunting knife he used to skin animals. A man had told him how to kill them back in the days. He knew how to make sure they wouldn’t stand up again. Without thinking too much Daryl stabbed the first one in the eye the deeper he could and the second one directly on the skull; their bodies fell on the ground like autumn leaves from their trees: lifeless. 

Daryl kept stabbing skulls until there weren’t any left and thanked ironically his brother for helping him. Merle wasn’t a coward nor was he just a talker. He liked to get his hands dirty more than a sane person would, but if there was someone that could do it for him, why bother? Daryl’s hands and clothes were stained in blood and that made him stop for a second to look at them, emotionlessly. He never killed someone before with his knife; he always used his crossbow because it made it less cruel and brutal. Those weren’t people though; those were monsters who tried to attack him, it was just like hunting, except that he wouldn’t have eaten those walkers afterwards. He killed animals in order to survive and he killed walkers to survive as well, nothing changed. His own words were the only thing that could reassure him. 

“Didn’t look like you needed help.” Merle scoffed while he grabbed his own backpack full of alcohol and staggered along. He noticed Daryl frozen, lost in his thoughts and pushed him gently back to real life. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout Darlena? You lost your purse?” 

“Shut up, Merle.”

The two brothers walked in silence for few hours. They constantly looked around to make sure the area was clear and avoided any kind of conversation. They never talked much to each other. It was usually Merle who started to converse about futile stuff and Daryl would follow without really understanding the words that came out of his brother’s mouth because he essentially didn’t care much about who he fucked or punched. But this time they both stayed silent and kept walking next to each other without even making eye contact. They paid attention to the environment; they listened carefully to every sound and contemplated the trees moving with the wind. Merle said that walking through the woods was the best thing to do to get to the group faster but it was also the easier way to be attacked. Once out of the woods and on the street, they both felt safer and maybe ready to talk. 

The group Merle talked about was actually a bunch of individuals stuck in traffic, who looked completely unequipped. They didn’t have gas, Merle said, or food, but they did have weapons such as machetes, knives and axes. The older brother said also that he left his motorcycle with them because he ran out of gas and that he was the only one with enough balls to go for a supply run alone. Once Merle found the road where all the cars were stuck, he started looking for known faces. A woman called him and made him turn around and grin at the source of that voice. The Dixons reached the small group of people that gathered around a red and old Cherokee. 

“This‘s my baby brother y’all. ‘Sides him, found nothing.” Merle introduced Daryl to the people that smiled unsure at their sight. Daryl could imagine what they were all thinking. They probably didn’t want him to be around; one Dixon was enough. However, some of those people looked more than okay with him being there, especially a skinny, grey-haired woman who never stopped smiling at him. The hunter tried scarcely to smile. The woman was about to introduce herself when a man approaching Merle stopped her. 

“You’re telling me you’ve been away for two days and you found nothing?” A man on his thirties said. His hair was curly and his eyebrows had a peculiar shape. Daryl supposed he was the one who leaded that group since he was the only man around except an old guy and a fat one who didn’t look very astute. Of course he didn’t think about his brother as a leader, he wasn’t able to take care of someone that wasn’t himself. This man though, didn’t look nice at all. 

“If ya had the guts to come with me maybe we woulda found something.” Merle said seriously, his voice deeper. Daryl knew what that voice meant and it was nothing good. The two looked at each other in the eyes with nothing but hate. 

“Calm down guys, we have better things to solve.” A woman said while facing the guy and touching his arm.

“Shane, the others are still out there, they aren’t back yet.” Another woman said pointing at the city. She was young and looked worried. Daryl looked at the long line of cars and at the buildings at the end of it. 

“If a rescue mission is what you’re suggesting, forget it. We can’t risk our life again.” Said the man whose name Daryl supposed was Shane.

These people, Daryl thought, were average people who used to have normal lives. They used to sit behind their desks and work. They weren’t like him or Merle, they couldn’t survive. The group started arguing about what was better to do and they came to the conclusion that go looking for them was the right thing to do. Shane tried to reason with them, saying that it was a suicide mission but they wouldn’t listen. Daryl silently agreed with the man but offered to go with them anyway because on their own, they would have died for sure and Shane gave him the same angry look he gave Merle minutes before.  
One hour later, he, Merle and the young blonde girl (who was the only one to volunteer) headed for Atlanta, the dead city full of brain-eaters and death, researching for four people that could be dead, or worse, could be zombies.


	2. Deny You Need Someone to Exterminate Your Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a home  
> Where light once was  
> Petrified of who you are and who you have become  
> You will hide from everyone, denying you need someone  
> To exterminate your bones.
> 
> "Friend, Please"-Twenty One Pilots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy someone actually liked my story. Thank you, really.Sorry for being terribly late but my computer suddenly stopped working. As always if someone finds mistakes, is more than welcome to tell me. Comments and kudos would make me the happiest person alive, seriously. You liked it? Let me know. You didn’t? Let me know why and I’ll try to fix it for the next chapters. Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me. See you in the next one.

-DENY YOU NEED SOMEONE TO EXTERMINATE YOUR BONES-  


The night was close and so was a downpour: the smell of rain was in the air and the clouds were getting greyer. Daryl’s eyes were fixed on the buildings around them, on the windows behind which people had a life, a house, a family. At that moment there were just wooden planks and dark. The streets were full of things people left behind: telephones, money, shoes, strollers...

“Why are you doing this?” The young girl asked, looking at Daryl.

“Huh?” The hunter said. The girl had tried to talk to him before as well but when he was lost in his thoughts, all the noises and voices around him were suppressed. 

“Why do you want to save these people? You don’t even know them.” She asked again, looking directly towards Daryl, who instead kept looking around. He didn't feel like talking, therefore he didn’t. His brain, though, was formulating an answer. He volunteered because he knew how much it hurt to lose a sibling, a parent, a friend. He knew the painful void it caused in your chest and how difficult it was to subdue it. No one deserved that fate, especially then, when family was all that was left. As he glanced at the teenager, he realized she was still waiting for an answer. 

“Y’know, it’s not like I got somethin’ better to do.” Daryl said trying not to sound doubtful. She didn't like the answer and whispered a disappointed ‘oh’. She wanted Daryl to be a hero. The nights spent praying for someone to save them came back in her memory and she thought that maybe, one day he was going to be a hero, he was going to save them all. But for now, he wasn't nothing more than a survivor. Daryl wasn't like Merle, that much was certain. 

They kept walking in silence, except for Merle who sometimes said something or just whistled a song nobody knew. The blonde girl’s name turned out to be Amy. Daryl didn't ask for it, his brother told him. He also said few things about what he would have done to her but Daryl tried not to listen. Amy walked faster than them, reckless and inattentive, not looking around her. She told Daryl about Andrea, about how her sister had almost died to save her life and about how she wanted to find her. Merle would have never done something like that for him. Almost dying to save his brother? Nah, that wasn't something he was willing to do, or at least that was something Daryl thought. After two hours of walking, they reached a point that finally Amy recognized.  


“They said they would have searched for supplies in this place.” She said quietly and pointed at the big shopping mall that rose ahead of them. That wasn't going to be easy. Daryl nodded and positioned the crossbow in front of his face and entered the building slowly. The doors were open wide and inside it was chaos. Pieces of glasses and blood covered the once-shiny ground; lifeless bodies could be found everywhere. Certain shops got fully looted and some useless ones stayed the same as they were before. Silence was comforting in some way but the fresh blood on the walls wasn't. The three survivors split up and started going in different directions. Daryl was going to check the east side and Merle and Amy the west side. He didn’t feel sure about leaving the two alone but in that moment it wasn't his first preoccupation. It was the best thing to do since Merle had military training and knew how to cooperate with other people (more or less) while he, instead, worked better on his own.

While examining a music shop from the outside, a walker devouring a dead girl with a horrifying strength caught Daryl’s attention and he rapidly crouched behind the nearest wall. The problem was that he didn’t know how these people looked like but he knew that if they were zombies, he could do nothing but kill them. He nodded to himself and as he stood up to aim at the walker, Daryl realized it wasn't there anymore. His heart started beating faster and he could fell his ears pulse. Merle’s voice telling him he was a pansy was the only thing his brain suggested.  


A light noise coming from behind him made turn around with a jerk. The batteries in his flashlight ran out a couple of minutes before and it was dark; his eyes weren't used to it yet. Daryl liked hunting at night sometimes and that wasn’t any different from his outdoor weekends, hunting was what he was born to do. His breathing slowly came back to being regular. There was nothing menacing there as far as he could see. He moved forward, his eyes examining around, always attentive. There was no trace of that damn walker, the area was clear and he kept looking around for supplies and survivors. Once he finished checking the first floor he ran up the motionless escalators and got to the second one which looked completely untouched. He guessed nobody had survived enough to get there. Daryl took everything he could fit in his big, already heavy backpack; water, food, batteries and Polaroids were what filled it entirely. Yes, Polaroids, because they were all he was. While looking around he also found a brown jeans shirt and a leather waistcoat which he decided to wear immediately. He left his old and not green-anymore shirt on the ground and kept moving trying to ignore the shots he heard echoing. It was probably his brother being an idiot and shooting some zombies. Nothing he couldn't handle.

On his way to the third floor Daryl had to kill three ‘brain-eaters’. When he was sure they were dead he knelt next to them and pulled out his carbon fiber arrows from their heads and cleaned them on his jeans. He had to re-use the arrows since just five of them could be counted. Sometimes it was difficult to remove them from a skull and sometimes it wasn't because the bones were already broken.  
Once the arrows were all back in the side mount quiver and the safety was set Daryl put his crossbow behind his back. Something stopped him from turning around, more precisely a cold object pressing against the back of his head. His muscles froze but his mind didn't. What was behind him wasn't a walker but a breathing human being who was pointing a firearm at his head and by the way the gun muzzle was moving on his hair he could tell his attacker was nervous.  
Daryl’s body was like a perfect war machine: fast and lethal. He quickly turned around and managed to grab the handgun from his aggressor’s shaky hands before he or she could shoot. He couldn't believe it actually worked but made it look like he did it all the time and mentally thanked the woman for not shooting him instantly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought you were a zombie!” The woman standing in front of him said, raising her hands. She didn't look dangerous but he didn't lower the gun, rather he drew out his hunting knife. The woman took a deep breath and apologized again, on the verge of tears.

“Are you Andrea?” Daryl asked harshly. She looked confused but nodded slowly.

“How do you know my name?” 

“Yer sister is lookin’ for you.” Daryl said, this time lowering the gun and giving it back to his owner. Andrea closed his eyes for a second and smiled.

“Where’s she?”

“With Merle.”

“Are you shitting me? Who the fuck are you?” She almost shouted. People didn't seem to like Merle much and that was something the end of the world couldn’t change. 

“They’re fine. Where’s the rest of the group?” 

“Rooftop. Why did you leave her with him?” Daryl ignored the question and headed for the west part of the mall. 

“The stairs are right here.” Andrea said, looking at Daryl moving away from her. 

“I gotta look for Merle first.” Daryl hadn't said that he was his brother but it didn't matter, she didn't need to know for now. 

Andrea followed the hunter and always kept her blue eyes on him. She didn't trust him at all. They found their siblings easily since Merle was shooting like it were the 4th of July and Amy was screaming. Luckily Merle wasn’t shooting at her…it wasn’t like Daryl thought that could happen, but Merle was peculiar and nobody knew what his next action was going to be. As the hunter saw his brother, he called him, relieved of the fact that they were both okay and that he wasn’t molesting the girl.  
When Amy saw her sister, she ran towards her and hugged her. Daryl never understood why women had to cry in situations like that. They had to be happy, hadn't they? The found each other, there was nothing to cry about. After the short reunion, they were leaded by Andrea to the roof, where the survivors were standing, frightened and nervy. It looked like they were stuck up there and didn't have enough ammo to fight against the walkers. 

“You guys okay? We heard shots.” An Asian boy asked, clearly worried not for Merle or Daryl, but for Andrea and Amy. 

“Yeah, Dixon doesn't get it.” Andrea said.

“What?!” Merle asked mockingly. 

“Noise attracts them.” A guy dressed as a sheriff said. He looked ridiculous with that hat and Daryl couldn't take him seriously. No one had introduced themselves and Daryl was okay with it; he had enough fantasy. He guessed the Asian boy was Glenn, the black guy T-Dog and the sheriff had to be-

“Name’s Rick Grimes.” The sheriff said politely. He raised his right hand, evidently expecting Daryl to shake it but instead the hunter looked at it indifferently and then at Rick’s face and started talking.

“Yeah, whatever. How do we get outta here?” Daryl was getting sick of that place; he just wanted to go away from there. He could do the introducing later. Grimes locked his jaw and positioned his right hand on his belt, clearly irritated. 

“Y’know, we thought you could tell us that.” T-Dog snorted. 

“What’s the problem?” Daryl asked.

“This idiot here shot everywhere and that attracted a bunch of zombies” T-Dog raised an eyebrow and looked at Merle. “And they’re too much for the seven of us.” He finished, pointing to the short walls that surrounded the perimeter. Daryl looked down and saw a numerous group of zombies in front of the main door, growling.

“If we find some kind of rope we could let ourselves down from here” Glenn proposed. He seemed satisfied about his suggestion. 

“Yeah, or we could use Rapunzel‘s hair.” Daryl said pointing at Amy with his chin. Glenn’s smile disappeared from his face and he crossed his arms on his chest, offended. “Let’s be rational for a second here.”

“Glenn’s idea‘s not that bad. I mean this building is not very high, it just has five floors. We could try.” T-Dog said  
.  
“Yeah, go ahead; I wanna see you try that.” Daryl snarled. He was already done with them. Not even one hour and they had already pissed him off. That wasn't an action movie and they weren't going to do that senseless stuff if they wanted to stay alive. He had to think fast, he needed a plan that wouldn’t have gotten them all killed before nightfall. 

Merle laughed loudly. Daryl turned his head, furrowed his brow and half-closed his eyes when an idea came in his head. T-Dog started shouting at him and Rick tried to stop them, shouting. Amy and Andrew were shouting as well, making a lot of noise. Noise. That was the answer. He sniffled and grabbed his crossbow from his back.

“I got coupla ideas.” Daryl said and everyone looked at him and then at the weapon he held. 

“We’re listening.” Rick said nodding at him and putting both of his hands on his black belt. 

“We can distract ‘em.” Daryl simply said. Nobody said anything, except Glenn.

“And my plan was stupid?”

“It was, dumbass. D’ya not get it?”

“Please explain.” Andrea said annoyed. 

“I’m gonna make a mess and they’re gonna come towards me and that’s when ya guys run out. Easy as stealing candy from a baby.”  
“Yeah but, what ‘boutcha?” Merle asked as if he cared.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle. Those sons o’ bitches ain’t fast, I am.” Daryl said trying to sound determinate. He was good at pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He sculpted a perfect mask, one that never breaks. It was like he had covered his face with black paint and everyone knows that when the paint dries on your skin, it takes time to remove it. Rick moved forward and approached Daryl. 

“Are you sure you can do it?” He put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder. Daryl didn’t want to be touched. When people touched him, it meant that they wanted to hurt him; therefore no one had to be close enough to have that kind of luxury. ‘Luxury’ because there was a long line of people who desired to put their hands on him for various reasons. He shrugged and took a step back. Rick understood that and nodded. That guy didn’t need anyone’s help. 

“Ready when you are.” Glenn said, clearly still annoyed by the fact that nobody liked his plan. Daryl was starting to like that guy, even if he would have never admitted it, he felt a little sorry for mocking him. He was more like a kid than a man.  
They all moved towards the first floor, trying not to get too close to the walkers. Amy was shaking and let the knife in her hands fall several times. As Daryl saw how many walkers he was about to deal with, he couldn’t help but swear. They were thirty circa and scattered. It was not going to be easy to attract their attention. 

“You still wanna do it, baby brother?” Merle asked as he crouched next to the younger Dixon, who nodded as an answer. Why was he asking anyway? The older brother didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway and Daryl saw something he had never seen before in his eyes: panic.

“Here, take it.” Ricked handed Daryl his gun and the hunter stopped looking at the atrium for a second and looked at the sheriff. He didn’t ask for a gun but it was going to come in handy so he took it and nodded as a thanks.

“Its name is Jack.” He said.

“What?!” 

“Its name is Jack and you’ve got to bring it back.” Rick said again with a sad smile hanging on his lips. 

“Again, what?!” Daryl asked confused. If that was meant to be a joke, well, it was a shitty one. Rick sighed heavily and got closer to the hunter. 

“It means that I want it back. Not even a scratch. Same for you.” Rick said, this time looking directly into his interlocutor’s eyes. Daryl didn’t know how to answer to that. Someone wanted him to be safe; that was new for him and he kind of liked the feeling of being appreciated that much. He nodded and kept his eyes fixed on the other man’s tired face and handed him his black heavy backpack in exchange. 

“There’s all I have in there. If I don’t come back-” 

“You will.” The sheriff said hurriedly, closing his eyes. “You. Will. Come. Back. Understood?” 

Daryl was about to answer when Amy called Rick who stood up and started running towards the rest of the group leaving the hunter alone. Daryl quickly thought about his words and realized how much pansy he must had sounded. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. He had never used a gun before and Rick hadn’t given him any instructions. He figured all he had to do was remove the safety, aim and pull the trigger, just like he did with his crossbow. Once his eyes were open again and all he saw around him were dead people and walkers and he just hoped Merle was going to be safe and sound. Daryl saw the group nearing the doors and shot a zombie whose body fell on the ground as the bullet hit the brain. All the creatures around heard the noise and headed towards the young man, allowing Rick, Andrea, Amy, T-Dog, Glenn and Merle to sneak out of the building. Daryl screamed the more he could to attract the walkers and shot few of them while drawing back and going towards the not working escalators. The survivors didn’t think about it twice and ran away, far from their savior.

As soon as he could, he turned around and ran up the immobile stairs and looked for an emergency exit but found none, accordingly, with Rick’s gun in one hand, his knife in the other one and his crossbow behind his back, he kept running. All the zombies he met during his desperate run, tried to grab him and bite his dirty skin but he managed to dodge their strong arms and reached the end of the second floor where a grey door with “Emergency Exit” written on it, stood. Daryl pushed the heavy door with his right shoulder and it revealed narrow, metal stairs. He ran down and got to the first floor where two famished walkers were waiting for him. He stabbed the closest one in the head and quickly realized his knife had got stuck in the walker’s skull. He left his weapon go and tried to aim at the second walker with Rick’s Colt. However, he didn’t make it on time and the zombie pushed him on the ground and got on the top of him. Daryl struggled to keep its attacker’s mouth away from his neck while trying to grab the gun that had fallen right next to him. His fingers weren’t long enough to reach the Colt and his left arm (with which he tried to keep the distance between their two bodies) wasn’t strong enough. Hope was long gone from Daryl: all that could save him was luck. And luck was what struck him because he somehow managed to grab the gun and as the walker found the perfect spot to sink its teeth in, Daryl shot. The handgun was so close to the hunter’s head that the blast made his ears almost explode. The young man got up laboriously, trying to ignore his head spinning and his ears ringing. His eyes were focused on the shadow that was slowly coming towards him from the top of the stairs, while his body was unconsciously backing up. The shadow limped and its arms grabbed Daryl’s. The young man kept backing up until his back touched the stair railing and his body fell off the stairs, colliding with the cold cement of the street. The noise of broken bones echoed in the empty streets. 

He was still awake. He could still feel the piercing pain the fall caused. ‘Luckily’ he fell just from the first floor; the damage he had, was likely going to heal. His eyes spotted his adored crossbow which laid few feet away from him. He couldn’t stand up though and he couldn’t cry for help. It would have been useless anyway: Merle, Rick and the others were surely too far to hear him. His vision was blurred and every part of his body hurt like hell. Daryl could feel the strength slowly leaving his body, his eyelids getting heavy and his limbs numb. And as the shadow began to move again, he did what his stunned brain told him: he tightened the grip on the handgun and tried to direct it towards his scratched head . If he had to die, he was going to die like that and not devoured by some monsters.


	3. There are no miracles and this is no miraculous life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no miracles and  
> This is no miraculous life.  
> We walk into the tide.  
> I just want to take my chance  
> To live through a miracle  
> "God & Satan"- Biffy Clyro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry that it took me so much to upload another chapter, really I ask forgiveness. I hope it’ll be worth the wait and I hope you’ll like it. Let me know, as usual, if there are any mistakes or things that need to be revised, please. Leave comments and votes if you want. It’ll make me really happy. Thank you.  
> 

-THERE ARE NO MIRACLES AND THIS IS NO MIRACULOUS LIFE-

“I don’t wanna go to school, mom.” Daryl said. He always struggled to keep his eyes open because of his long blonde hair always being in the way. 

“Why not honey?” The little kid’s mother said, taking care of that rebellious hair and making his narrow blue eyes visible. 

“People there ain’t like me.” He said, sulking in an exaggerated way. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” The woman asked looking directly into her son’s eyes. 

“I meant, people there are not like me.” The kid corrected himself.

“Why would you say that?” The young woman stood up from her kid’s bed and caressed his cheek. “You are like them.” She finished.

“Then why they never play with me or talk to me?”

“You have to be patient, my dear. I’m sure someone wants to be your friend. And then, if no one comes to you, it’s up to you to make the first move. Because maybe, they’re exactly like you and they’re just waiting for you to say something.” The mother said smiling kindly and winking at her son, whose face lit up. He went to school happily that day and waited.  
How wrong she was to think that and how fool Daryl was to believe it. No one came and shared his lunch with him; no one gave him a smile or asked him to be friends. He didn’t have friends. Alone protected him. Being on his own was what made him a difficult target. It was like a robust shield that didn’t allow any kind of threat to go through. He was the only one who could be hurt because he didn’t have someone next to him who would have suffered too. And that was fine. He could run fast and hide when instead those kids couldn’t. He had no one to protect; he was the only one who deserved those punches. 

And being alone was also his death sentence because no one was there to save him.

*

Something stopped him from pulling the trigger. Daryl felt like his ears were covered by a thick layer of padding; he heard a distant rumble of thunder nonetheless. It was so strong it made the ground beneath his body vibrate. He saw a bright flash of electricity decorate the dark grey sky. He had to get up and get indoors as soon as he could but before he had to understand how far the storm was because the noise could have led the walkers somewhere else and he could have just run somewhere safe, sheltered from the lightnings. He waited for another electrostatic discharge and counted the number of seconds between it and the sound of the thunder. It was just five seconds and that meant that the tempest was about one mile away from him. Some other noises joined the ones the sky was making.

The screams were getting closer and closer, higher and higher. His vision was every instant more blurred and confused because of the rain and the pain but he could see a shadow running down the stairs. The gun was still touching his head and his index finger was still on the trigger. He felt like a quitter and his brother’s voice accusing him of cowardice echoed in his mind. He lived as a coward and would have died as one. Was that really going to be his destiny? No.  
With all the strength left in his limbs, Daryl stood up and shifted all his weight to the leg that wasn’t hurt and he couldn’t help but whine. Aiming at the shadow was hard, especially because it never stopped moving and because his reflexes weren’t that great but he managed to point Rick’s gun at it. He had to do it quickly because the storm was getting closer every second and the probability of a lightning striking him was high. What stopped him from pulling the trigger was something the shadow did: Daryl heard it say his name. It was definitely a hallucination. His senses couldn’t be trusted and he had to kill it quickly because it was slowly reaching him. A sudden sense of weakness hit his body and his leg was no longer able to hold his weight. The gun fell from the hunter’s hand and his head became so heavy that caused the man to fall on the wet ground, unconscious and abandoned in a chasm that swallowed him whole. The screams were higher and closer and higher and-

*

“The fuck you doin’?” Merle asked at the sight of his brother getting next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I wanna take a picture.” Daryl said and positioned the old Polaroid 600 in front of their faces, enough far for it to take a picture with both of them in it. 

“I ain’t takin’ a picture with you, bro.” 

“Why?”

“I dunno, maybe because I ain’t a lil’ pansy like you. I don’t like pictures.”

“I do, so shut up and smile.” Daryl said and pulled his brother closer. He enjoyed taking pictures since he was a kid and it also had a meaning. He wanted to remember the things he did and for that reason, after every moment that was worth remembering, that made his life less pitiful, Daryl took a picture and behind he wrote the date and the action. He never told anyone the meaning behind this obsession because it was a thing that belonged to him and no one else. 

“I’m so sick of this girly hobby you’ve got.” Merle exclaimed looking at the younger man shielding the ejected picture with his hand.

“At least I got somethin’ better to do rather than puchin’ people.” Daryl looked at Merle and smiled. Merle sighed heavily.

“Whatever.”

That picture was perfect because it represented a special simple moment that Daryl wanted to remember forever.

*

The sky was dark blue but there where no stars. It was odd, the lack of stars. Was he dead? Was watching a starless sky the result of being under nine feet of soil? He couldn’t be dead; he had a lot of stuff to do. He had to run away from that place. Daryl rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his open palms and opened them again, realizing his vision was still a little blurred. His body was lying down and what was above him was definitely not the sky. With the corner of his eye he saw something and quickly moved away from it, fearful. The space in which to move wasn’t very extensive and he learned that as his head rubbed against some kind of smooth fabric. Where was the gun? Where was his crossbow? A vague memory suggested he had dropped it on the ground so his hands started to touch gently around in the hope of finding it. Daryl had never felt that bewildered before, he had always had everything under control. The last thing he remembered was that he had passed out in front of a possible zombie. He still couldn’t see well and he initially was a little panicky but eventually he realized that there was no one in front of him, in fact he was in a tent and at the moment; safe and alive. Daryl hardly believed it and looked for bites or scratches on his skin. There was a bloody bandage on the left leg but, under it, was hidden a deep horrible wound not due to the walkers. And for a moment Daryl felt relieved. Voices could be heard from outside the tent and he could recognize them. 

“What the fuck you thing you’re doin’, Rick?” Shane said ferociously with the hands on his hips.

“What do you mean? What was I supposed to do?” Rick hissed, leaning forward. 

“You gotta think about the group.” Shane answered.

“That’s what I did.” Rick said, pointing to where Atlanta was.

Daryl looked around him, hesitant. They were on the summit of a mountain. Behind him there were the woods, ahead of him a lake and he didn’t remember how he got there. That place was certainly better than the previous one: too exposed and risky. The two men turned around as Daryl stepped out of the tent, still pretty stunned. Rick looked at the injured man a little longer than Shane did, before turning around again.

“Yeah, by risking your life for these two rednecks?” Shane shouted so that the rest of the group could hear him. Daryl heard that as well and he was about to answer but Rick preceded him. The hunter balled his fists and clenched his teeth. 

“They saved us, Shane. They’re part of this group now. Like it or not.” Rick murmured. Shane rubbed his head, sniffling loudly. He looked at Daryl and then at Rick and after that he walked away. Rick stood still for a moment, looking ahead of him, where the other man was standing seconds before. Daryl felt nothing but distress. Wherever he went people couldn’t wait to get rid of him. And he was sick of walking and feeling people giving him dirty looks. He was never enough, he was never right, never respected, never appreciated. He pretended he didn’t care, he said to himself that he was better on his own and kept walking away. This time it was different. He needed those people; he needed to have someone watching his back. Merle wasn’t suitable for that task; he was too egocentric and selfish. He needed someone loyal. Still, Daryl was just an angry kid and sometimes he had to get rid of the frustration and the anger and he couldn’t help but being unkind and unpleasant. He decided to break the silence and be the first one to talk. He waited for the man to face him and started.

“Where are my backpack and my crossbow?” He asked roughly. Rick looked disappointed but Daryl wasn’t there to pat him on the back.

“It’s in the RV.” He said. Daryl nodded and started to limp towards the vehicle. There was an old man sitting on the top of it. Daryl narrowed his eyes to look at him. The old man did the same and he looked like he was ready to attack but Rick’s presence made him settle down. 

“You stayin’ right? We need people.” Rick said approaching the hunter who was not in the right mood to take decisions. 

“Yeah, and having your buddy be pissed at me and Merle? Fuck no.” Daryl said and grabbed his things on the table inside the RV. As he turned around he realized Rick was blocking the exit.

“Ya want me to kick your ass Sheriff? Get out of the way.” He said getting dangerously close to the other man, daring him. Rick knew when a person was about to be violent; he used to deal with a lot of violent men and with time he started to ‘prevent rather than cure’ and so, he let the hunter pass. Daryl was not a dangerous person, according to Rick’s reasoning, as long as he didn’t feel in danger, just like wild animals. Or maybe, just maybe, he was like a rabbit. Rabbits never stop running and they never lie down because they’re prays and they’re afraid a predator might attack them. The just run and hide. Rick couldn’t really see what was behind that man, what his actions hid, what his words meant. But he knew that the group needed more people to be safe, and that Daryl could more helpful than Shane thought. Daryl, however, felt too vulnerable when in the presence of those people and if there was one thing he didn’t really like, was being vulnerable. 

The backpack still contained all his stuff and for a moment he hoped Rick hadn’t looked inside. Being a jackass wasn’t totally his intention; it simply was how he was. Life had given him too many disappointments; therefore he had to be the first one to attack rather than being attacked. He knew Rick wasn’t a bad person at all, but he couldn’t allow himself to trust him; it was too soon. 

“Oh look, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!” Merle said at the sight of his brother. The older men noticed the scars, the bandage and the blood but he was used to not asking about injuries and especially he knew that certain questions couldn’t be asked. That, of course, wasn’t the case, but habits are hard to break. Daryl, as soon as he realized that his brother was looking at him, tried to limp as little as possible. The pain was intolerable: his leg was pulsing and he was about to puke because of it. That didn’t matter, though. 

The hunter sat on the ground next to his brother who was cleaning his gun. The shadow the tree was providing was something Daryl was extremely thankful for. His eyes closed instantly and his mind started wandering. He thought about what had happened. He was still alive and it wasn’t thanks to himself: someone had saved him, that was sure. Was it Merle? It had to be. Who would have risked his life for him if not his brother? 

“Hey?” A delicate girly voice said. Daryl opened his right eye to look at who was talking. It took few seconds before his eye got used to the light. There was a skinny grey-haired woman in front him who was bending down.

“Rick said you’re in pain. Here, take these.” She said and handed Daryl some pain-killers. He nodded and tried to smile but couldn’t. She left soon after she saw Merle was about to say something unpleasant. 

“These people fucking hate us bro.” Merle muttered.

“Whatever. We can’t leave.” Daryl answered and closed his eyes again while resting his head on the comfortless tree’s bark.

“That ain’t what I mean.” Merle said angrily. 

“Thanks for saving my ass back at the mall.” Daryl said after one minute of silence.

“You’re welcome. I love taking credit for things I didn’t do.” Merle said and laughed. Daryl’s eyes opened in surprise. 

“What d’ya mean?” He was confused. And before Merle could answer a long haired woman started talking.

“It was Rick.” She said. The two men turned their heads to the young woman who looked at them and raised her right eyebrow. 

“He risked his life for you because he somehow owed you, but you could have at least said thanks.” She said irritably and left. Daryl was still confused about the whole situation. 

“Yeah little brother you should have seen him carrying you till the cars.” Merle burst into laughter and punched Daryl on the right arm. 

Rick didn’t send his wife to say that. He didn’t want it because he wanted him to realize on his own. Rick would have given Daryl time. He knew the hunter was going to change. He knew the hunter was eventually going to understand that the real enemies he had to fight were the walkers and the survivors that weren’t in the group. They were a family now. They had to deal with each other’s flaws and protect each other. But most important, they had to stick together in order to survive. Rick didn’t expect Daryl to say ‘thank you’ but he expected him to be his friend.

Daryl took a picture that day. He photographed himself: a man that had been saved by someone and not himself, for the first time. And behind he wrote: “There are no miracles , just miraculous men .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Some Rickyl moments are coming soon. Also, in the next chapter I will explain how Rick saved Daryl. See you next time. ;)  
> By the way the pic Daryl took with Merle was inspired by this one https://31.media.tumblr.com/edb154562091435ce3240f7d5b0958ba/tumblr_n4abphCoop1qhdaf7o1_500.jpg


	4. I make you miserable, you stick with me although you know I'm gonna ruin your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you hate me because I'm poop and really slow at writing but yeah...I give you this chapter so please don't hit me :( By the way I'm also going to give you my Tumblr (http://i-dbelostwithoutmyblogger.tumblr.com/) so you can scream at me there and kick my ass if I delay next chapters too much. Sorry, again.
> 
> Hope you like it and let me know as always if there's something that needs to be changed.

-I SAVOR HATE AS MUCH AS I CRAVE LOVE-

The trees moved slowly. Each leaf wanted to break free from its confinement; willing to fly and live adventures with the wind. Still, on the branches they stood. Maybe because the wind wasn't strong and persuasive enough or maybe because they were too weak and they knew that in the end, the road wouldn't have been so long because without the carbon dioxide and the water, provided by the tree, they would have slowly died. They knew to be addicted to what kept them prisoners and so the majority stayed, dreaming every night about a freedom that will never be achieved. There were few brave leaves nonetheless. Few bold warriors who decided to sacrifice their long life for a short exploratory one. And just like warriors they fell one the ground, lifeless, one after the other.

It was night and it felt like it arrived too soon. Daryl was alone, in his tent, thinking about what to do. There was an odd silence, one of those that can’t be trusted especially when there are a lot of people around. Daryl wanted to stand up and go check if everything was okay but he couldn't somehow persuade his body to do as required. 

His limbs felt heavy like a boulder and his mind was somewhere else. All he could think about was Rick. Why was he doing that? Why was he that kind? What he wanted in return? Because he knew too well that when people are showing sympathy to you, is because they want something. He didn't have anything, so what exactly did that man want? 

Staying with those people wasn't an option. He knew Merle would have screwed up everything but Daryl couldn’t leave him. His brother was the only thing that reminded him of his old life, that gave him the strength to keep going and being a better person. Merle was an example not to follow and he was there to show Daryl what happens when you give up on your humanity. 

That might sound a little selfish and it probably was too, but it wasn’t like his older brother was always next to him because he enjoyed his company, but because he just needed someone to cover him in case shit would have hit the fan. Neither of them has ever said anything but they both knew. 

The icy night wind hit the tent, passing through the fabric and gently caressing Daryl’s bare arm. His body was awfully dirty. The rain dried on the mud that was clinging to his skin and it was itchy. Daryl passed his hand over it but nothing changed; the dirt stayed there, claiming its territory. 

It was already night and Daryl could smell some wood burning. It was really cold but he really didn't feel like joining the others because he knew that he had to “introduce” himself to those folks who didn't look very happy of having him around. The young man eventually gave up when another wave of cold struck him and made him shiver like a little girl. 

Once the tent was unzipped and Daryl was out of it, everybody turned around to look at him. Some people returned quickly to what they were doing but others took their time and scanned him. Rick was looking at him as well and invited him to join the group with a nod. 

Merle was nowhere to be seen. 

“Everybody,” Rick said to catch their attention. “this is Daryl. He helped us escape from the mall.” After he pointed at the young man with his dirty hand, he returned to gaze at the fire and its sparks.

“Another mouth to feed.” Daryl heard someone whisper. It came from where Shane was sitting but it certainly wasn't him because Daryl could recognize his annoying voice and that, wasn't his. 

“I’m sure he’ll be a great help.” Rick continued not bothering to take his eyes off the flames.

“How? Eating our food?” Shane exclaimed. He had gone too far and the hunter was about to snap.

Daryl has never really understood where all that hate was coming from. Everywhere he went, people were hating on him even thought he never really said much or did anything more than wandering around. Why couldn't people judge him for what he was and not for his family or for what he looked like? It has always been like that. When people walked down the streets and saw him, their only goal became avoiding him in every possible way. Everyone was running away from him, no matter what. But Daryl really meant no harm.

In that moment he remembered something. It was April and it was windy as hell. Merle just got out of prison and Daryl drove him home because he thought that it was where he wanted to go after spending a whole year sleeping in a unfamiliar bed. Merle didn’t give a damn about sleeping, he just wanted to go back to what he was doing before he got caught. It was fine. Anyway, Daryl tried not to think about it too much and smoked a cigarette in a nearby park who looked almost desert. All of a sudden a little girl ran towards him. Just a second before her little feet touched Daryl’s big ones, she stopped. The two stared at each other for a couple of seconds. She had a red scarf around her neck because somehow during that time of the year, it was still quite cold outside. Her tiny hands were bright pink and they were holding a bunch of violet flowers that she probably collected from some plant. 

“What?” Daryl asked, feeling a little awkward with the silence. The girl didn’t speak, she just pointed at the man’s right shoulder. And he looked at it because he really didn’t understand and what he found was a subtle petal of the same flowers she was holding. The hunter smiled and handed the soft thing to the girl. She smiled too. But in that moment her mother approached and ripped the petal from her daughter’s little hands. The woman gave Daryl a terrible dirty look and left, dragging the poor little soul, who wanted so bad her flower back, behind her. All he did was giving the girl a petal, all the mother saw was him harming her. 

He took a picture of the violet piece of flower resting on the grass just to remind himself that people see what they want to see, never stopping and asking themselves if it’s right or wrong. That really pissed him off so much. Because he really wanted to make people smile and he really wanted to show he wasn’t his ripped clothes or his bad attitude. 

But no one gave him the chance. 

“If it wasn’t for me, most of them wouldn’t even eat your shitty food.” Daryl said out loud maybe a little too harshly. 

“You two should drop it. We don’t want to draw unwanted attention.” The old man said. Shane stoop up brusquely.

“Oh no, we’re doing it.” He growled. 

“No,” Rick stoop up too and put himself in the middle of the two angry men. “you’re not.” His hand was touching Daryl’s chest but not Shane’s one because he thought that the only way to hold Daryl back was pushing him. Did Rick feared the hunter more than his friend? The cop’s eyes were looking at his buddy’s, trying to persuade him. Daryl took a step back so that Rick’s hand wasn’t touching him anymore. It felt good though, his hand on his chest. It was really cold and Rick had been near the fire for a bit and he was warm, that was all. 

When the situation was under control again the two talked. Rick’s face was so close to his that Daryl could feel his hot breath gently caressing his cold lips. It was the cop’s habit to get ridiculously close to the people he talked to. It was okay.  
“Can you do this?” He simply asked. To which Daryl replied: “I don’t know.”

Silence followed. Too many Alfa males weren't a good thing in a group. There had to be just one, the most capable one, who could lead them all. One of them had to claim the crown and sit on the throne. But that wasn’t what Daryl wanted. He was okay with following orders. What he wasn’t okay with, was being hated for no plausible reason. He couldn’t say that, so he just played along with the “I’m too manly to just shut up” thing. His mouth was about to open but Rick preceded him. 

“I honestly don’t know what Shane has, but I feel like I can trust you not to punch him in the face.” Rick said looking at the hunter’s serious face. Daryl, after a bit, nodded and Rick did too. And as the younger man realized that the other one was about to leave, he asked him a question that had been bugging him for a bit.

“Why do you trust me?” He asked slowly, his voice low. Rick turned around so the two we not facing and sighed. 

“I saw your pictures.” He almost whispered. Daryl froze. He hoped what he heard wasn’t real. He didn’t want to believe that Rick had seen them. They were too personal, they were his memories, his thoughts, his feelings. His fists automatically clenched; he felt vulnerable. 

Those pictures were the key to understand who he really was and even though he kind of wanted people to know that he wasn’t a monster, he didn’t want them to know that they could hurt him. 

Because every image was a piece of his heart: that organ that no one had to know it existed. Picturing them in Rick’s hand was like watching the shield around him getting thinner, slowly losing its protective layers. He was acknowledging the fact that a knife would have penetrated easier now. 

It hurt thinking about Rick looking at them and wondering what they meant. He probably didn’t. He probably just thought he was a pansy and nothing more. Daryl could feel the knife penetrating so deep in his chest, he could feel his hot blood flowing down his torso, his legs. He was going to bleed to death.

Because the pictures were what made him feel alive, but also his death sentence. 

He agreed since the first picture he took that it had to be a secret; few people, almost no one, could know about it. Merle certainly knew and it was enough for him to make fun of his brother the way family shouldn’t (but still, he didn’t know how Daryl felt about it. Not that it would have changed anything).

However, the stab never happened. Rick didn’t make fun of him, not even once. Daryl somehow expected him to just laugh and call him names. But he didn’t. He has never done that. A stranger had the opportunity to do what everyone has always done and lost it.   
Why? Daryl asked himself during all night but to no avail. 

He really wished for the dialogue to end soon, but Rick kept going.

“You’re not as bad as you want to appear.” He whispered, making sure that no one except him heard it. He must have felt Daryl flinch, his breath becoming heavier. They were both uncomfortable and you could tell by just looking at them, not looking at each other.   
“Your secret is safe.” Rick promised and turned around to face him. “I won’t tell. Now go get some rest. You gotta help do some things tomorrow.” He turned around once again and started to walk away. 

“Don’t touch my stuff again.” Daryl uttered and regretted soon after. He couldn’t help but let his bad side overpower him. He was trying in every possible way to alienate the only person who saw in him the real Daryl, the one that was hiding and couldn’t wait to get out. 

And that was it. 

He went to his tent and rested his head on his arm.

He was broken into two.

One part of him was terribly frightened and wanted to run away, somewhere far away so they could all laugh about him around the bonfire and he wouldn't have heard their voices.

The other part was happy, if happy means that he felt like he could finally start to breathe and stop scowling because it was pointless. And when you feel this way, when you don’t know which path to follow, you quickly realize that no one will ever tell you what to do. You have to do it on your own because no one explained you what the best could be. 

It took him the whole night to decide. His eyelids couldn’t help but fall on his blue eyes but he struggled to stay awake. 

The clouds always change in shape and color. They probably can’t even recognize themselves. They chase each other and when they touch, they become one. They all have names but no one calls them the right way. What we know is that they always seem to move. It looks like they always know where to go because they never stop and ask for directions. Maybe it’s because the wind is pushing them. That’s probably why.

There was no one pushing Daryl but he knew where to go. This time he was going down the right path. 

He was going to stay.

 

*

 

It was barely dawn when T-dog woke him up, more or less gently kicking his foot. He looked tired and he had a reason to be because he had being watching over the camp throughout the night. Daryl wondered if he knew. It was stupid to think that, but so it was to think that dead people could walk on earth. You never know. You are never too careful. 

His throat closed at the thought of the group looking at him differently: as if he were no longer the predator but the prey. The hunter swallowed the fear, stood up and grabbed his heavy crossbow. His eyes were menacing. 

Andrea was awake as well, next to her there were Rick and Glenn. They were all holding a weapon and they were ready to go. 

There still was no trace of Merle.

Andrea had her hair caught up and tied back with a rubber band, she looked badass but she was still feminine, despite her too large dirty clothes. Glenn was wearing a baseball cap. It looked bad on him but it wasn’t like someone really cared about it. Rick was wearing his cop uniform, the first three buttons of the shirt were unbuttoned and his bare chest was visible. There were few blood stains on his clothes. 

Daryl focused on his irregular beard and his blue eyes that looked lighter once the light hit them. He looked tired. Who didn’t? At least he had his wife and son with him. He had his whole family next to him. He could rely on them.

His right hand was resting on his right hip and he looked at Daryl the same way the hunter was looking at him. They were more studying each other than just looking. Their eyes scanned every particular of the man they had in front of them. They approximately trusted each other but they had to know their mutual weak points. Daryl forced himself to believe that it was the reason why they were staring for so long. And it partly was.

The wind rose and it moved everyone’s hair. The tree branches moved too. Everything seemed calm.

“We’re gonna look for a better place.” Glenn informed Daryl, who silently nodded. 

They advanced like ghosts in the forest. It seemed like none of them had a weight and moved together around the trees. When you struggle to survive, you have to learn few things that might save your life more than once. Daryl knew how to move in the forest because he hunted, but the other three had to learn it on their own and fast. They were good nonetheless. 

While crossing the woods Daryl was able to shoot two squirrels with his crossbow. It wasn’t the best but it was still meat. Every time Rick would nod at him and give him a gentle smile, the kind you give when you approve what a person is doing.   
Glenn stepped few times on deadwood but nothing happened. Whenever he did that, they all stopped moving and looked at each other to make sure everything was okay.

Once they stepped out of the forest the sun rays hit their sweaty faces and they all closed their eyes, savoring the moment. Daryl was the first to open them and he looked at Rick. He looked peaceful, relieved. But when he opened his eyes too, Daryl was already looking somewhere else. 

“What is that?” Rick asked, using his hand to cover his eyes from the light. 

“Let’s go check.” Andrea answered mirroring Rick’s movements. 

From far away it looked like an old cabin but as they got closer they realized that it was actually a farm. And it wasn’t inhabited. The second they got too close a young man ordered to stop moving, keeping his sniper pointed at them. His hands were too shaky. Daryl didn’t believe he could really shoot and moved forward and tried to point his weapon at him, but a burning pain in his head stopped him. The twinge came from his left temple and what hit him came so fast that his body followed its trajectory and fell on the grass, just like the bullet, staining it with red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Yeah, this is it, I'm so sorry that it kind of sucks but I really have little time to write because of school and other things but now that is summer I guess it will be easier. I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you did and even if you didn't. This time there are more Rickyl feels because I couldn't wait any longer lol.


	5. I realize that this line is dead, so I'll follow you instead.

Daryl didn’t want to open his eyes. His body felt warm and no noise could be heard, however the hunter wanted to live in that unsure safety for one minute more. He was scared because what if he opened his eyes and saw that his crossbow was nowhere to be found, that the same person who shot him, had killed the rest of the group? He didn't want to see that and hoped he could go back to sleep and never wake up again. But it was stupid of him to think that closed eyelids could change anything: bad things keep being bad, no matter what. So what he did, was taking a deep breath, hoping the frightening thoughts would leave his body like the air did. But they didn't.

He was in a small room. The curtains blocked the light and the weak wind coming from outside. Daryl could sense warm sheets under his dirty hands and a pair of eyes studying his movements. There was someone in there, sitting on a wooden chair next to him, but due to his vision being blurry, he couldn't tell who that was. 

“Hey. Calm down.” The voice said. Daryl knew who that voice belonged to and did what it asked him. 

“You’re lucky that kid’s aim was terrible.” Rick said trying to cheer him up. The hunter didn't smile but he gradually reassured himself that he was safe. Rick told him that the owner of that farm had heard the shot and apologized for his son’s behavior. He said that he was a religious man and that at first he had asked them to leave but then a girl had stepped in and decided that they could stay. Rick wasn't sure if that place was a good place to stay but as long as Daryl needed, they could settle there. After all, they were looking for a safe place in which they could live for at least two days. 

As the strength in his legs seemed to come back, Daryl stood up and gathered his things, wondering if anyone had seen the inside of his backpack. The pictures were still there and after quickly looking around the room , he found his crossbow as well. He should have taken a picture. He remembered all the times he woke up after passing out, in a hospital bed, on a bench, on the ground and he remembered that no one was there for him. No one had waited for him to open his eyes, no one wanted to make sure he was okay. But Rick did. He was there when he woke up and he helped him with the bandages. Rick had waited for him to wake up on that chair, maybe all night or maybe just a couple of hours but still… he had been there with him. 

The farm was huge and it had a lot of rooms, more than that family could use. On his way down the stairs he noticed that his brother was nowhere to be seen. He didn't worry though because he knew that man too well and was aware of the fact that maybe he should have been worried about innocent people casually meeting him along the way. 

His group was sitting in the living room, one the couches, with people he didn't know. A part of him wanted to go straight to the door and escape but he somehow knew that those people were waiting for him to come downstairs and join them and so he didn't. His walk was slow and it was more than evident that he didn't want to be there. He rested against the doorjamb and waited for someone to start the conversation. The silence didn't last long because everyone started saying their opinions, especially the family living in the farm, who were divided into those who wanted them to stay and those who didn't. Rick made sure to tell them all the things they could have helped them with such as hunting, supplies runs etc, using his convincing voice. The old man was still unsure whether to let them stay or ask them once again to leave and sat on his chair looking doubtful. They couldn't blame him for that. You had to be cautious to survive and trust no one. However Carol and Andrea did a good job and convinced them.

The weather was nice and there was a forest nearby. The trees called Daryl and he couldn't help but immerse himself in nature all over again. As his body was surrounded by leaves and branches, his mind seemed to open and his lungs to finally work like they should have. It felt like home, he felt safe. He knew how the wind blew, how the vegetation moved, how the water flowed just as much as he didn't know how Rick thought. The sheriff was a mystery for him because he couldn’t really understand why he trusted him so much. Moreover he didn't understand why his body calmed down around him, why it seemed easier to breathe when he was next to Rick. He never felt that way, he never felt serene when he was with someone. 

As an hunter, Daryl always knew the right path to follow. He knew where he had to walk in order to be as quiet as possible, he knew which footprints were fresher and to whom they belonged, he knew where to go if he needed to find water or a mountain, he could tell where the north was and which animals lived in there. Right now, he didn’t know where to go. Was he going to stay and let Rick be his friend? Friend didn’t sound right in Daryl’s mind. He lost the path he was following or maybe he was tired of following it because he knew it too well, he knew what was at the end. Being surly or rude wasn't going to help. He had to be nice to those people, he had to at least try to live next to them without creating any trouble. He had lost his path so from now on, he was going to follow Rick’s. 

It was hard. Breaking out of your own bubble is always hard. When you realize that people are not like you, when you see their expressions changing, you have to find a way to fight. He couldn’t be himself because no one ever liked that. Daryl himself didn’t like the hurt and aggressive part of him but right now, it was all he had. But if I can just hide it, he thought, maybe things will work out okay. He was good at hiding, at escaping, at denying his feelings. He had to just calm down and help those people find a better place to stay because he owed them that, he owed Rick. That man had faith in him, it seemed, and he couldn’t be another person disappointed by Daryl. He didn’t want to be disappointing, not anymore. 

In that world, you do what you can to survive. When the world ends, it doesn't matter who you were, your passions, your hobbies, it is all just a faded photograph in a dusty photo-album. Daryl knew how to survive, he knew what to do to breathe one day more and he wasn’t alone anymore. It didn't matter what his brother said, all the evil things his mind whispered to him, he wasn't alone. He had Rick, he had all those people in the group and he was going to make it. He was going to stay alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey what’s up guys, yeah I know I suck. Like, I don’t even have an excuse, I really suck. Bad things happened these past six months and I just felt like I didn't want to write anymore. I don’t know where I’m going with this story and I apologize because I know what it means to desperately wait for people to update but yeah, I will try. Sorry for this short, crappy chapter but it was all I could manage to write. Again, thank you for following this “adventure”, you’re awesome. See you in the next one.


End file.
